


Stronger Than Fear

by Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer



Series: Learning To Trust [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Brother Feels, Claustrophobia, Confessions, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Murder, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel Friendship, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright is a Mess, Panic Attacks, Protective JT Tarmel, Secrets, Team as Family, Trapped In Elevator, Trust Issues, emotional breakdown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29555022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer
Summary: JT can't keep his hand from flinching against the other man's knee when Malcolm's gaze finally finds his, one look at the sheer fucking terror in his eyes both momentarily shocking him to his core and bringing about the crushing realization that Malcolm isn't as close to calming down as he thought.He's not calming down at all.He's getting worse.
Relationships: JT Tarmel/Tally Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Tally Tarmel
Series: Learning To Trust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171349
Comments: 50
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

"I haven't been in an elevator since…"

JT doesn't react, not really, but he does notice the way Malcolm's words stutter out for a second and a flicker of uncertainty replaces the forced humor in his tone. The most he offers is a raised brow in the other man's direction, though he can't stifle a flicker of concern despite himself. It had been a few weeks since Malcolm's incident with the elevator shaft. A few weeks since his behavior had completely _shifted_. JT hadn't mentioned it - Gil had brought it up a few times and Dani had spared some odd looks, but the kid brushed their concerns off with seemingly practiced ease. His trip to the hospital had apparently revealed a fracture in his skull, which JT was unsurprised but still concerned about, and he figured that, yeah, taking a hit like that, cracking your head hard enough to _literally_ crack it, would cause some behavioral changes.

So, he tries to tell himself, it makes sense that he's a little more paranoid, that he's a little quieter, that he almost falls asleep standing up, that a nudge could knock him off balance because he's so unsteady on his feet, that he loses focus at random times and walks into walls and doorways and is always practically tripping over his own feet and forgetting simple words.

He's still Bright. He's still the weird kid JT tries to act like he doesn't care about. But the past few months, he'd been alternating between acting like he's on autopilot and acting like he's flipped into full gear. But these past few weeks, Malcolm seemed to have been driven by one thing. Fear. It was like he second guessed his every step, every word. He hesitated before he spoke, stopped to _think_ about his actions before just leaping into a situation. He called for backup, _waited_ for backup, and he was just… quiet. He spoke when he was spoken to. And that was it.

To say JT was worried would be an understatement. Maybe he was annoying sometimes, maybe he got on his nerves, but JT would give just about anything for him to act _normal_ again.

(Normal for Bright, anyway.)

Now, this; _this_ was a good sign. Malcolm was talking to him unprompted, which was rare now. And JT, who probably wouldn't entertain this conversation in any other situation, will happily indulge this if it means the kid will start acting like himself again. "Good news is you'll be staying inside of this one," he responds with a pointed look, and Malcolm's strained smile eases a little. JT doesn't miss the way he glances at the floor as he steps inside, calculating each step he takes as if a wrong one will send him tumbling. "And the inside of an elevator is relatively safe."

"Relatively," Malcolm agrees, an argument in disguise, and JT bites back a grimace.

He waits a moment, waits until Malcolm is settled inside, waits until he's sure there's nobody else trying to enter, before he presses the button. Silently, and with as much subtlety as he can muster, he slides a step back and regards the other man with a cautious gaze. He's observant when he wants to be, and while he's very aware that he's no Malcolm, he is still a detective. And lately, the past few weeks, Malcolm's ability to school his features into either a neutral expression or the most convincing 'I'm fine' smile he can muster has been a little lacking.

So JT does catch the nervous glances he spares toward the elevator doors as they slide and clamp shut, and the way his lips tremble and tighten and thin. And, of course, the way his hand shakes. And shakes. And shakes. The biggest tell, perhaps, that Malcolm isn't as fine as he'd like everyone to believe - and one JT never fails to notice even when he's not looking for it.

It's not that he doesn't know what to do. It's not that he's not good at the 'comfort' thing. Because he is. Because he's a _detective_ , and he can't count how many panic attacks he'd calmed people down from, how many anxiety attacks he'd soothed. So he's ready to do what he needs to do, _willing_ to do what he needs to do, to keep Malcolm as calm as he possibly can. The only problem is how much it hurts to see him like this. He tries not to stare too much - he's aware that his own hypervigilance could only further elevate the other man's anxiety and that's the last thing he wants - but he does try to keep an eye on him regardless as the elevator starts moving, because he doesn't want the poor guy having a panic attack and passing out on him. As tense as Malcolm is right now, it feels like a legitimate concern, and JT doesn't like that at all.

He flicks his gaze upwards, takes a breath through his teeth and turns back to Bright after a moment, momentarily feeling like he's extending his hand toward a wounded, terrified animal on the street, trying to coax him forward, gain his trust, without the risk of being attacked - or, definitely much more realistically in this situation - without him running off and hiding himself away. That's also a legitimate concern. "Hey," he calls out quietly, and Malcolm's head swivels toward him, gaze landing for only a second before he redirects it back to the door. "You alright?"

Malcolm doesn't even try to look convincing as he nods. Anxiety flickers across his face, lips curling inwards for a moment, and his shaking hand twitches upwards, closer to his chest.

"It's just an elevator, bro," JT does his best to keep his tone mild but assuring, wanting to make sure Malcolm knows he's not trying to downplay or disregard his fears, but that there's still nothing to fear right then. That he's safe. The message doesn't seem to go through - doesn't really seem to have much of an effect on him at all, if JT's being honest. "You've been in one thousands of times, haven't you? It's just like that. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you, Bright."

In hindsight he wishes he'd kept his damn mouth shut.

Just as Bright looks like he's about to relax, the elevator stutters, screeches, and stops.

JT casts a disbelieving look toward the doors, and makes to move toward the buttons at once. A sharp huff from Malcolm freezes him in place, however, and when he turns, he's alarmed to see the man rocket backwards into the wall and slide down to the floor in one swift motion, hands reaching up to cradle his head as he curls forward on himself. There's something so, horribly alien, seeing the panic amp up tenfold and watching Malcolm succumb to it in the same breath. Something heavy knots in his stomach, forcing himself to turn away only to press the emergency button and then immediately making his way back over to the other man, squatting down in front of him and trying to get a clear look at his face through his arms. "Breathe, Bright."

Malcolm shakes his head, digs his fingers into his hair and moves his arms slightly, enough for JT to get a better look at how deathly pale his face had gone, pupils having shrunk to pinpricks. It had only taken a second for anxiety to turn into panic, and Malcolm is as helpless to it right then as JT should have expected, and he hates that this actually catches him off guard. Malcolm has PTSD. So _much_ PTSD. And JT had known that, he'd been so very well aware of it. The problem was that Malcolm was usually frighteningly good at downplaying it himself. Compassion floods his system, a swell of sympathy and a pinch of pain for the other man.

"It's okay," he soothes, lifting a hand from his knee to clasp it over Malcolm's instead. The reaction to the touch is instant, and though JT expects him to flinch away, he actually seems to sink a little closer. Good. That's good. JT has seen enough, done enough, to know that a simple touch could go a long way for victims of intense trauma, prone to panic and anxiety attacks. Not always, but sometimes. It's grounding, gentle, reassuring. That's what he's going for, and though Malcolm's hands stay woven into his hair and his breathing doesn't ease by much, JT can still feel and see some of the tension escape his trembling form. "You're gonna be okay, bro. This isn't anything dangerous," he promises. Malcolm's gaze doesn't move from the door yet, but his chest stills for a second, then rises again as he takes a deeper breath. "Right, genius?"

Malcolm blinks a few times, eyelids fluttering, and finally looks up at him. JT can't keep his hand from flinching against the other man's knee when Malcolm's gaze finally finds his, one look at the sheer fucking _terror_ in his eyes both momentarily shocking him to his core and bringing about the crushing realization that Malcolm isn't as close to calming down as he thought.

He's not calming down at all.

He's getting worse.

"JT?" His voice is quiet and shakier than JT would have thought. Rapidly readjusting his priorities, the man drops down further, briefly hitting his knees before maneuvering himself into a sitting position instead, and keeping his hand steady against Malcolm's knee, holding his gaze.

"Yeah, man. I'm here. I got'cha."

Malcolm takes a breath. The fear clouding his eyes seems to intensify. "We're trapped."

"And we're fine," JT assures him gently. The realization steals some of his breath away, and he's not sure whether to feel relieved or further concerned. But he does know how to respond. "We're not running out of oxygen. And don't tell me you don't know how an elevator's mechanics work, don't you? We're suspended. Not going up, not going down. And we're not gonna be going anywhere until we get through to maintenance and get those doors open."

Malcolm's breathing doesn't steady, but JT can tell he's trying. Each breath he takes is forced, a desperate effort to carry air into his lungs. "What if the elevator crashes? How high up are we?"

JT runs his tongue over his lips and doesn't answer. Malcolm isn't going to like the answer. "The odds of that happening are slim, bro. Alright? The only way this elevator car is going anywhere is if the cables snap. _Which_ ," he adds quickly, seeing the brief but subtle shift in Malcolm's expression before the man screws his eyes shut altogether, "again, not likely. The building's not crumbling, we are safely, _temporarily_ , stuck between floors. And think about this; we've got about four to eight cables holding us up, right? And each one of those by itself would be strong enough to hold this car up on its own. So, even if one snaps, somehow, we'll be fine. This is a traction elevator. Probably just about the safest elevator you'll ever set foot in," he soothes.

Malcolm nods a little, although somewhat timidly, and forces his eyes open, still cloudy with a rather large measure of fear. "You know a lot about elevators," he manages, and JT chuckles. He takes the chance to push himself closer, lifting his free hand and pressing it up under Malcolm's chin to check his pulse, not bothering to be subtle. Malcolm doesn't seem to notice.

"I'll tell you something," he starts, pausing for a second to study the man's face carefully. The panic etched across his features hasn't eased, and his heart rate is a little too high for comfort. "This isn't the first time I've been stuck inside an elevator. I used to be scared to death of them."

Malcolm sucks in a shuddering breath at his admission and JT wonders if these were the right circumstances to admit that. "You're not now?" He responds somewhat nervously. JT shifts his fingers slightly when the man moves his head back, moving along with him and keeping his middle finger pressed against the pulse point. He needs to get his heart rate down soon. "You'd think getting stuck in an elevator - multiple times - would, um. Kind of. Scare you even more."

"Did at first," JT responds, quirking his lips upwards. "You know how I deal with fear?"

Malcolm shakes his head, wide eyes fixated on his face.

"Research. My mom used to tell me knowledge is stronger than fear."

Immediately, Malcolm's demeanor shifts. His hands fall away from his head, one of them dropping to his side. The other bumps against JT's hand, but instead of either of them pulling away, Malcolm pretty much immediately latches onto his wrist in a vice-like grip. "Your mom?"

JT hesitates, only for a second. It's been a long time since he's discussed his family with anyone in depth, but he figures it's worth it, at this point, right now, if it helps keep Malcolm calm.

"Mm. She was a college professor. Psychology degree." Malcolm gazes at him silently, hanging on to his every word. "Real good at her job. Trained a lot of outstanding therapists. One thing she always used to tell me was that it helps to apply logic to situations like this - when dealing with PTSD, hallucinations, flashbacks. Even nightmares. The more you know about something - such as how rare it is for an elevator car to fall and that they're actually significantly safer than escalators or cars - the harder it is to scare you. And even if it doesn't help, it's nice to know."

Malcolm exhales suddenly, a sharp burst of air. He doesn't respond to JT, not immediately, eventually flicking his gaze away from the man's face and looking up toward the ceiling. JT silences himself after a few seconds, more or less turning his attention to his heartbeat. Thankfully not going as fast as it had been, but still too fast for JT to feel comfortable with pulling his hand back. He goes back to studying Malcolm's face after a moment, still tight-lipped and wide-eyed and pale and sweaty. If JT couldn't feel the tension steadily draining from him, couldn't feel his heart rate dropping, slowly but steadily, he wouldn't think that Malcolm was calming down at all. It was subtle, and there were still a few warning signs that caught his attention. Like the fine tremor buzzing through his lanky frame, the way his chest would stop and start moving again as his breathing hitches, the way his jaw ticks and twitches with anxiety.

Malcolm's head drops suddenly, fast enough that JT jolts in alarm and snaps his hand up from the man's knee in preparation to catch him if he slumps forward. But he remains upright for the most part, his chin folding down over where JT's hand is still steady at his throat. He leans into the touch much like a child would, practically nuzzles against his hand as his eyes drift shut.

"I don't want to die."

JT feels like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. At the same time, he feels a startling flutter of relief at the words, as a doubt, a fear he hadn't known was there before abruptly lifted and diminished. "You're not going to die," he manages to promise. "Trust me."

Malcolm breathes in shakily, and when he speaks again, his voice is choked with tears. "Can I?"

JT barely opens his mouth to ask _can you what?_ before the realization slams into him full force. He flinches a little despite himself, glad that Malcolm can't see the shock and hurt on his face.

He stays still for a few seconds, staring at the man in front of him in silence even as his mouth works to form words that his brain won't supply. Malcolm doesn't lift his head, doesn't open his eyes. They seem to squeeze shut a little tighter, even, and his breathing hitches on an inhale and comes out a little too sharply when he exhales. The shadow of doubt and fear and pain etched across his face, evident in the furrow of his eyebrows and the way his jaw trembles and his mouth twitches as he fights to compose himself, is heartwrenching, heartbreaking, heart _shattering_. JT is equally astonished and ashamed, guilty knowing that his attitude toward Malcolm in the beginning hadn't helped matters by any means and surprised only because he'd thought they were well past that, that they'd reached some kind of unspoken understanding.

He's horrified and angry that it had taken him this long to realize.

And suddenly, he's thinking too much. He's thinking of all the times Malcolm had shied away from him unexpectedly when they passed each other in the halls, seemingly not for any reason JT was aware of; the way he shrinks under a particularly nasty glare JT shoots him once in a while that isn't really meant to be hostile or malicious; the way Malcolm softens around him on good days, sticking by his side like a golden retriever aiming to please. It's not just him, either, he realizes with a start. He acts like that around Dani. Even around Gil, sometimes, if there's a particular air of irritation sticking to the Lieutenant that day, or if Malcolm's done something maybe a little too crazy, a little too reckless. He sees it all, suddenly, like looking through a lens.

Malcolm doesn't trust them.

Malcolm doesn't trust _anybody_.

Even Gil, JT realizes somewhat numbly. Even with Gil, Malcolm proceeds with caution. Even before all this, before the elevator shaft, one wrong word or one wrong look could change the man's demeanor entirely. Even with the one he'd known the longest, he is still so… so afraid.

Even in his most relaxed state, he is always so _afraid_.

JT doesn't know if he can fix it. But he knows he's damn well going to try. "Of course you can." Malcolm doesn't answer. Doesn't even react. JT gives his knee a squeeze. "I'm your friend."

Malcolm peels his eyes open then, not looking comforted at all. "Friends are temporary."

Anger mixes with disbelief in JT's stomach and he fights to keep both emotions off his face for fear of scaring Malcolm off further. The words are spoken so quietly, so numbly, so easily recognized as something recited over and over and over again, whether by Malcolm himself or someone else, JT doesn't know and he's not even completely sure he wants to. "No," he begins and bites his lip for a moment, leveling a cautious stare with Malcolm's uncertain one. The tremor still strumming through his body hasn't let up. It's also not a comfort to note that his pulse has skyrocketed again. "No," he repeats, a little calmer. "This is temporary. Me? I'm not temporary, man. You can trust me. I promise. Malcolm," he lowers his voice a little, but the urgency in his tone and the use of the other man's first name is all it takes for Malcolm's gaze to snap back up to his own. His blue eyes lock with JT's, fear and surprise and pain behind them.

JT inclines his head toward him, searching his gaze, holding eye contact for as long as he can.

"You can trust me," he finally repeats. "I trust _you._ "

Malcolm stills under his touch. He blinks once, twice, and then again.

Then the expression crumbles, drops along with whatever was left of his composure (and JT's heart), and he's alarmed to see tears rising rapidly as Malcolm's eyes glisten, as his already shallow breathing grows more and more strained. He drops his head back this time, further away from JT's hand, and JT doesn't move with him this time. He keeps his hand in the air, though, hovering with Malcolm's smaller, trembling fingers still curled tightly around his wrist.

"You," Malcolm begins, and heaves out a bitter laugh while his lips shudder, "you _shouldn't_."

JT swallows, a task suddenly very difficult, and narrows his eyes. "Give me a reason not to."

Malcolm wheezes out another shaky breath that sounds less like a laugh and more like a sob that time, but it's still not quite either, something trapped in the middle. "I could give you two."

That's weirdly specific.

It only serves to worry him.

"Talk to me."

Pain clouds Malcolm's gaze, shrouds across his face, that constant shadow JT's gotten used to seeing hanging down over him, and he seems to sink down under the force of whatever he's carrying on his shoulders recently all at once, crumbling under a force JT doesn't see nor understand, and he shakes his head wordlessly at the man's request for a few seconds before stopping and meeting his gaze again. There's something there, suddenly, something akin to longing, to resignation, and JT - who had honestly assumed for a second that there really _wasn't_ anything specific - is struck with the realization that there is. There is something. There's something, something bad, something Malcolm doesn't trust him enough to tell him, even though everything on his face right then insists that he wants nothing more than to be able to.

"I don't know what to do," Malcolm suddenly lets out through clenched teeth, his expression crumbling once again only to give way to fear and agony, so much of it that JT's stomach threatens to expel the tuna salad he'd had for lunch. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Knowing any further questions would amplify his panic, JT decides to shift to a different tactic of support. Moving his hand from the man's knee again and gently maneuvering his wrist from Malcolm's grip (and ignoring the panic and pain that flashes across Malcolm's face the second he does), he shifts closer and scoots over so he's sitting beside the man instead. He can't say he's not a physical person; when it comes down to him and Tally, JT is all couch snuggles and forehead kisses and hand-holding, arms around her waist while she cooks or tucking her hair back randomly during a conversation just because a light, simple, physical touch, JT knows, is _important_. Contact is important. He'd seen too many touch-deprived people not to believe that.

JT is a physical person, in the right circumstances. So the only hesitation he offers before he loops his arms around Malcolm and pulls him into a hug is purely for the other man's benefit.

Malcolm's touch starved, too. JT knows it, he's seen it, how he flinches from and yearns for contact at the same time. It's evident now, the way he tenses when JT puts his arms around him - and then the way he suddenly relaxes, unwinds, all at once, and melts like butter into the larger man's arms, his head dropping sideways against JT's shoulder and his shaking hand falling into place beside it almost at once, bunching up a fistful of his shirt under his fingers and taking a slow, shuddery breath, the first one that sounds like the air actually made it to his lungs.

"Talk to me," he says again, quieter, and Malcolm launches into a series of sobs almost at once.

It's terrifying, heartwrenching and nerve-wracking, but JT only holds him, offering no words of comfort this time, and it's only a few seconds before Malcolm speaks through his tears, "she didn't know. She didn't mean to! I just- I don't know what to do, I- I'm trying to protect her, and I-" He stops to breathe, giving JT only a moment to think that the poor kid really needs to calm down because JT hardly understands a word he's saying, much less what he's talking about - and presses on, "I- I can't, I can't- it's going to happen again and I need to- to stop her but I can't lose her too, no…" He trails off with a whimper, the air shuddering between his teeth as he breathes in again, and JT nods. Nods like he understands. Like he knows what he's saying.

"I'm scared," Malcolm gasps after a few seconds and sobs against his shoulder again at the admission. JT can feel the guilt radiating off of him. "I'm sca- I- I'm _scared_ of her. I'm _scared._ "

JT thinks with a sudden, horrifying jolt, he _does_ know what he's saying.

"Bright…"

The kid shudders in his arms, pushing his face deeper into his shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry-"

"Malcolm," JT croons as softly as he can manage, trying to fight off the fear steadily climbing up his throat, heart pumping a little bit faster. He squeezes the other man's shoulder to let him know he's still with him, let him know it's okay, though he's not really sure it is right then, "who?"

Malcolm exhales like a punch to the gut had knocked the air from his lungs.

"Ains," he breathes through another sob. "It's Ainsley."

JT squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, curses silently in his head and nods again. There's a moment of silence; Malcolm's weight seems to lift away from him for a second, but not quite yet, like he's teetering on the edge of pulling away or sinking closer. JT gives him a second to decide, but it's only when the man sinks against him again, pressing closer and burying his face into his shoulder and tightening his grip on his shirt that he realizes Malcolm wasn't trying to decide whether or not to pull away - he was waiting to see if JT would. With a slow sigh, he offers another reassuring squeeze to the kid's shoulder and forces his eyes open again. "What did she do?"

"She didn't mean to."

"I know." He does know. Because he trusts Bright. Maybe right now more than he ever did.

"She's scared." Another sob rips itself from Malcolm's lungs. JT works his jaw for a moment and takes to rubbing soothing circles against his back with one hand. "And I don't know what to do."

"I know." He works his other arm up under one of Malcolm's and shifts them both, leaning himself against the wall and letting the kid slump against him completely. "What happened?"

Silence. JT feels Malcolm's breath stutter against his shoulder.

"She killed him." His voice is as small as a child's right then. "Endicott…"

JT stills his hand for a second before forcing himself to keep going. The confession forces his heart into his throat, rendering him silent, speechless, but he doesn't want Malcolm to pull away from him, to make him think he _wants_ him to, so he continues the soothing motion. His mind goes back to Gil, unconscious and undergoing surgery as the doctors fight to stabilize him and stop the bleeding from a stab wound Endicott - if only indirectly - had given him. His mind goes back to Malcolm's ex-girlfriend Eve, to the guy that had killed her, to the strings Endicott had pulled to frame the kid for a murder everyone knew he wasn't capable of committing, even clouded in grief and rage. His mind goes back to the fear the entire Whitly family had found themselves engulfed in realizing the threat Endicott was to them. He almost wants to say _good._

But it's not good. It's bad. It's so, so very bad and JT knows that. He also knows he doesn't have all the details, so he's going to hold off on whatever he thinks about it for now and focus on both getting Malcolm into a more stable mindset right then and letting him get as much of this off his chest as he seems like he needs to. Thankfully, he doesn't have to prod Malcolm into speaking again, because a few shuddery breaths and hiccups later, he's continuing on his own, "and someone else. The case we had a few weeks ago. I- I'm pretty sure that was her."

Two people.

Two reasons.

"I don't know." Malcolm forces in another breath, trembling. "She doesn't remember."

Not good enough reasons. Not nearly good enough.

"I helped her," he whispers suddenly, and JT turns his attention back to the kid at once, heart sinking as he goes on. "I didn't know what- wh- I- I didn't know what to d- _do_. She didn't remember. She didn't know she…" He presses his face deeper into JT's shoulder, and he has to strain for a second to hear what he's saying next. "She blacked out, sh- she repressed it, and- and- and I didn't… I couldn't do anything else- I got rid of the body, I- I cleaned it up and I just- I couldn't- didn't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I'm _scared_. _She's_ scared."

Sympathy twists his heart up in knots - for both of them. But mostly for Malcolm, right then, for the man clinging to him like a child, sobbing into his shoulder, lost and confused and probably even now feeling like he doesn't have a single person in the world to turn to with any of this. JT almost wishes it didn't have to be him, but that sentiment doesn't last long. He's glad it's him.

He just hates that it's Malcolm. This kid, and his whole family, can't seem to catch a break.

Malcolm sags against him suddenly, a fraction of the weight lifted. JT feels it weigh down on his own shoulders a bit in response, but if that's what it takes, then he'll gladly carry it with him.

"Are you gonna," Malcolm begins weakly, fearfully, "are you gonna tell them?"

JT hesitates for a second, but he wraps his arms tighter around him and rubs his back once more before going still, letting the touch linger to inspire as much comfort and reassurance as he can. It's the right thing to do and JT knows that - but if Malcolm's telling the truth and Ainsley really doesn't - or didn't - remember what she'd done, something was very, very wrong. She wasn't just some psychopath killer going out and slitting throats just for kicks. She needed _help_ , not handcuffs. And Malcolm hadn't just spilled his guts to him for JT to turn around and slap a pair on his younger sister and shove her into a cell for the rest of her life. "No. I don't know," he mumbles, and rubs his back again, tracing the length of his spine upwards with his knuckles the way his mother used to do whenever he was mid-meltdown. It was as effective on Malcolm as it used to be on him, and he couldn't bite back a tired smile before it wilts away. "I don't know," he repeats, and breathes out a sigh. "I wanna talk about it first. With you. When you calm down."

Malcolm inhales and exhales too sharply then, his relief palpable even in his silence.

"She needs help," JT continues after a moment. "Help you can't give her by yourself. But you can help her by _getting_ her the help she needs. Especially if there's a risk of this happening again, which…" He trails off, trails his knuckles back down Malcolm's spine, and the kid breathes out a shuddery sigh and sinks against him. " _Neither_ of you deserve to deal with alone."

Malcolm's grip eases a little then. JT feels a rush of relief and a little bit of pride when he finally relaxes, his violent shaking slowly calming down. He lifts his head from JT's shoulder, then turns it sideways and lets it drop again, nodding slightly before asking quietly, "you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad, Bright?"

"It's been months," Malcolm manages. "Months since Endicott. And I didn't- I didn't-"

"Tell anyone that your sister blacked out and killed a man and you helped cover it up and ship his body to Estonia?" JT interrupts quietly, rubbing his back again. "Yeah, I wonder _why_ that is."

He's hit his mark. Malcolm laughs, if only softly, and it's not bitter this time. He smiles a little at his accomplishment - and his friend - as Malcolm lifts and finally pulls away from him enough to slump back against the wall beside him himself. JT pulls his hands back, offering another smile, glad to see the worst of it is finally over. The panic seems to have subsided, and with it had lifted, if only somewhat, the burden JT realized now that he'd been carrying with him the past few months, and had only been weighing down heavier on him the past few weeks. It pains him to realize how crushing it must have been, and how scared Malcolm must be - not only of losing his sister - but losing his entire life in the process. His job, his friends. Even if he did believe that friends were only temporary - which is something else JT resolves to help if he can, too.

"Hey," he mumbles, tilting his head, and catches Malcolm's gaze again. "You're a good guy."

Malcolm doesn't look too certain. His throat convulses a little as he swallows, looking almost pained like he's trying to swallow down needles, but he doesn't move his gaze. "You think so?"

"I know so," JT replies firmly. "I also know you got a screwed up family and I cannot imagine - and let me stress this again, I _cannot_ , _imagine_ , the stress you're under. I can't imagine how scary it was. How scary it is," he concedes, and shifts to face Malcolm while the kid continues to hold his gaze, drinking in his words like they're the only thing keeping him alive and holding him together right then. Maybe they are. "But this? This doesn't make you a bad person, bro."

Malcolm works his jaw for a moment, hesitating, torn, and looks away.

JT waits a moment before going on softly, "I know you care about your sister." Malcolm's gaze flicks back up, a pained look flitting across his face. "I wouldn't expect anything less. I've seen you talk down a killer, Bright. You empathize with people you don't even know, despite whatever they'd done. Nobody would expect you not to offer the same to your own flesh and blood."

Malcolm bites his lip, wringing his hands together in his lap, and looks down. JT takes the chance to look him over this time, relaxing upon realizing he's not shaking so badly anymore, that the tremor wracking his body would be damn near unnoticeable if he wasn't looking for it.

"I just," Malcolm finally mumbles, "I just want to do the right thing."

"I know you do," JT replies gently, reaching out to clasp a hand over his shoulder. Malcolm relaxes immediately into his touch, leaning forward as he looks up again, peering up at him. JT manages a small smile, searching his gaze, and furrows his eyebrows slightly. He sees so much hesitance and confusion flickering behind his eyes that it's painful, the longing to trust, and it still hurts a little that, on some level, despite what Malcolm had just admitted, they weren't quite there yet. Malcolm wasn't quite there yet. JT isn't sure what it's gonna take for them to _get_ there, but he's willing now more than ever to find out. He's not about to give up on the kid. Especially now, it's not an option, if it ever was. "And we're gonna figure this out, man. Trust me."

Malcolm gazes at him for a long moment, blue eyes trailing across his face wordlessly. Confusion withers away into caution, which then softens into relief, and gratitude, and he finally gets a nod from the man that actually looks somewhat certain, somewhat confident, as Malcolm forces the corners of his lips up into a brief, hesitant smile. "I'm… trying to."

JT offers a grin in response. "That's all I'm asking for."

"Thank-" Malcolm starts, expression soft, but they both flinch a little when the elevator suddenly buzzes, jerks, and starts moving again. JT goes still for a second, more so out of surprise than fear, but he doesn't miss the panic that flashes across Malcolm's face before he realizes that they're going normal speed, not falling, and relaxes against the wall again with a heavy groan. JT spares a second of irritation toward the fact that nobody had buzzed in on the intercom to see if they were okay the moment JT pressed the emergency button, but he lets it go.

There's more pressing matters at hand. The most important thing is the man sitting beside him.

"Never riding an elevator alone again," Malcolm murmurs softly after a few seconds. He's up on his feet before the elevator even dings and opens again, and he's already out by the time JT heaves himself up when the doors slide open. He does stop in the hallway to wait for him, a relieved smile etched across his face. "Would you believe I've never had that happen to me?"

 _Considering your reaction?_ "Definitely."

Malcolm smiles, genuine but a little strained.

"Listen…" JT pauses, folding his lips inwards briefly before easing his expression again, giving the man a reassuring look to quell the anxiety that flickers across his face. "How about I give you a ride back to my place?" Malcolm blinks, clearly caught off guard by that, and JT manages a chuckle despite himself and raises a hand to rub it over his face. "Tally and the baby are there. We don't have to talk about… anything yet, I just-" He doesn't want to send Malcolm off alone. He doesn't like the idea of him being alone, especially not right now, not after everything that had just happened, not after the panic attack, the confession, all of it. "I'd feel better if I knew…"

A concerning amount of surprise crosses Malcolm's face before it fades into understanding, and gratitude, and the apprehension that had darkened his features is gone in an instant. "... okay."

JT sighs a little, lips quirking upwards in relief.

"Can I hold the baby?" Malcolm asks suddenly, eyes going wide.

"Of course, kid."


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride is quiet, but it's the kind of content quiet that JT can live with.

Beside him, Malcolm sits leaning sideways with his head against the window, his arms folded around his stomach and his blue eyes just slightly glazed over, not all there for the moment. JT is both worried and content to leave him to his own thoughts for the time being, but only because it gives him a chance to sort his own out somewhat. There's still things he knows they need to talk about and JT has a lot of questions he's not entirely sure he's in a position to ask. He wants the kid to know he can trust him with these things, though, and he doesn't want to press for every answer at once and risk inadvertently pushing him away in the process. And he doesn't want to give Malcolm a chance or a reason to push him away either - something he knows the kid could decide to do in the blink of an eye. No, he needs to proceed cautiously here and make sure Malcolm knows he's got a support system. That's the biggest thing right then.

The biggest thing is learning to trust. Because until Malcolm really _trusts_ him to help, JT _can't_. Of course, he's also aware of the other problem glaring them right in the face, and that would be Ainsley's murder blackouts, and JT knows just as well that that needs to be handled all the same. And JT wants to handle it in a way that actually _helps_ them, by getting Ainsley whatever help she might need and making sure Malcolm doesn't lose his sister, and his whole life, too. He's worried about both of them. Worried _for_ both of them. Worried any wrong move could flip their lives around even further and the last thing he wants is to make their situation any worse.

He wants to help. So he's determined to make sure, if - _when_ \- Malcolm trusts him enough to let him, he actually can. The man eases out a breath through his teeth, flexing his hands around the steering wheel briefly before allowing himself to relax again. His gaze goes back to Malcolm, who finally manages to look something akin to content curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes are shut now, and if he wasn't rubbing his hands together rhythmically to calm the tremor in his right hand, JT might have thought he was asleep, given how peaceful he looks.

It's a welcome shift in demeanor, and a relief in itself that Malcolm's even willing to try to relax around him, and JT feels most of the tension drain from his own shoulders in response as well.

He looks ahead, gazing at the road, and grimaces at the sudden chill that passes through the car, reaching out with one hand to crank the heat up. Malcolm's eyes open briefly to watch him, and JT offers an easy smile in his direction in a mostly successful attempt to reassure him before settling back again, flipping on his turn signal and pulling the wheel to the side with one hand to turn down another road while he works to open the vents with his other hand without looking. Malcolm reaches over to help after a moment, and while the smile he offers him is cautious at best, it's the most 'Bright-ish' smile that Malcolm's given him in the past few weeks - much less today - and his heart swells with mixtures of relief and affection. Malcolm's silent still for a few moments longer, fiddling with one of the vents a little longer than necessary, and JT waits patiently for him to speak, unsurprised when he does. "Are you sure Tally won't mind…?"

"Tally," JT interrupts gently, "loves you. If anything, she'll be ecstatic."

Malcolm continues to side-eye him for a moment, hand hovering in front of the vent now, before he lets it drop back to his lap. JT's still aware of his gaze burning a hole into the side of his head even when he turns his attention back to the road and eases both hands back onto the wheel. It's hard to miss the flickers of surprise that flash across his face every now and again when JT talks to him, taking in the kindness like a starving, hurt animal with a single slab of meat being held out to him, every inch of him longing to move forward and take it, but the rest of him held back by the fear that the moment he goes for it, it'll be ripped away from him just as quickly.

He's drowning. Drowning, with a liferaft in front of him, scared that the moment he tries to climb on, it'll crumble under him and send him crashing back into the raging water even deeper. JT runs his tongue over his lips, gazing ahead, and wonders at the responsibility he's just taken on. It's daunting, but not daunting enough to scare him away. If anything, it only makes him want to push harder, only makes this sudden flare of protectiveness blazing in his chest intensify further.

He's broken…

… but he wasn't born that way.

_("No one's born broken," his mother told him once. "Someone breaks us.")_

And he can be fixed.

_("Everything that's broken can be fixed." Her voice rings in his head like she's really there, really in front of him, really talking to him. He drinks it all in the way he used to, letting her advice soothe whatever anxiety and doubts are left and turn it into a steady pulse of determination and compassion. "Mended, repaired. It doesn't need to be in perfect condition to be beautiful." She smiles at him across the table, shifts her hands a little bit so he can see the broken bowl, the golden cracks where she'd mended the pieces back together herself. Somehow, the design makes it look better than it used to. "Sometimes, when you repair something broken, or damaged, or cracked, you can create something new, and beautiful, and even more resilient.")_

He smiles to himself briefly, looking ahead at the road. Sooner or later he'd have to introduce Malcolm to kintsugi. He has a feeling the kid would like it - if he doesn't already know about it.

They were silent again for the most part until they reached the house. Malcolm seems about half asleep at that time, looking like he's nodding off with his head against the window again, and even as he slows to pull into his driveway, JT almost considers looping around the block a few times and letting him sleep. But Malcolm lifts his head again before JT can speed up again, so JT simply continues to pull up to the house and park the car, reaching one hand down to unbuckle himself while he cuts the engine. Malcolm looks at his house curiously for a moment, wide-eyed, and it takes the man a moment to realize he's never invited the kid over before.

He's gonna have to make that a regular occurrence, now.

"Home sweet home," he hums as they get out and JT unlocks the door, pushing it open and stepping aside to let Malcolm in first. The kid offers a lopsided smile in response, venturing forward carefully and thankfully missing the doorframe this time as he enters, though he does come within a few inches of it at first before veering to the side to avoid bumping into it. JT follows once he's clear, pulling the door shut behind him. "Make yourself comfy. Tally, I'm home!" With a brief grin in Malcolm's direction, he adds, "and I've brought a guest."

It's only a moment before Tally rounds the corner from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, with the baby in her arms. JT can't help but light up at once, and watches every ounce of the hesitance in Malcolm's expression falter away into excitement. " _You're_ bringing home strays now?" Tally teases, but she offers a good-natured grin toward Malcolm. "Good to see you, Mal."

Malcolm freezes for just a second, JT notices, before practically brightening and softening all at once as he looks back at her. Taken off guard, but not in a bad way, it seems. "You too, Tally." His attention turns to the baby, looking wide-eyed right at him, as he coos, "and you, little guy."

"Malcolm, Levi," Tally introduces, smiling. "Levi, Malcolm." There's a pause, a blink, and Tally suddenly lights up all at once. Malcolm doesn't seem to notice, surprisingly enough, too busy fawning over the baby cradled in her arms, but JT does. It takes him a few seconds to put two and two together, but it's not long before a grin eases itself across his face, sparing another glance back down at his son before looking back up to his wife, who is now testing the name out with a curious expression written across her face. "Levi Malcolm… I actually kinda like that…"

"Thank god, the middle name hunt is over," JT groans humorously.

Malcolm is quick to look back at them, not getting it.

"We've been trying to figure out a middle name since we found out we were having a boy," Tally explains at his confusion, while JT shrugs himself out of his jacket. "It's been a struggle, but…"

"Malcolm fits," JT considers thoughtfully. "Better than Levi _Jenkins_ Tarmel."

Tally's eyes practically sparkle with mischief then, glancing back over at him. "I don't know…"

"Wait." Malcolm is wide-eyed now, still uncomprehending. "Wait. You're naming-" He doesn't finish, and he doesn't need to. His gaze snaps back and forth between them in obvious confusion, then darts back down to Levi, who has seemingly gotten bored of watching him and is now looking past him at the door, his hand curling and uncurling against his cheek. "You…"

JT studies him for a moment, then hangs his jacket up and offers him a nudge. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Malcolm breathes at once, wide-eyed. "Of course. I- yeah."

"Levi Malcolm Tarmel it is," Tally declares with a grin. JT doesn't miss the shadow of worry in her eyes this time when she looks back toward him, all the questions he plans on answering tonight written across her face. Then she turns back to Malcolm, a little softer, and shifts Levi a bit in her arms - which in turn causes the baby to twist his head around to look back up at his mother, his hand falling still against his face for a second. Then his eyes go back to Malcolm, just as Tally takes a step closer and tilts Levi forward a little. "Would you like to hold him?" It only takes a second for Malcolm to snap back to his senses, lighting up at once and stepping forward to take the baby. JT shuffles forward a little, too - he trusts Malcolm, but he doesn't trust the head injury, the fractured skull and the fact that Malcolm hasn't been the steadiest on his feet lately.

But Malcolm is as careful as ever, taking the baby into his arms, cooing softly while Levi looks at him with a startling mix of interest and apathy that only infants can pull off. JT can't help but smile a little to himself, watching the two carefully for a moment before turning his attention back to Tally and offering a brief, amused grin, which his wife returns easily before looking over her shoulder. "I just put dinner on. Oh! Malcolm, are you staying? We've got enough for three."

"I would…" Malcolm trails off for a second to offer a polite smile. "But most food makes me sick."

"Most food," Tally concedes with a smile. "But you haven't had _my_ cooking." With a more determined expression, and some concern, she adds, "and you're practically skin and bones."

It doesn't take long for JT to realize how right she is. He also realizes a few other things he'd never given much thought to before now, which seems to be happening more and more often today. As much as he notices, he really just doesn't _process_. Malcolm has spoken those same words before, to Edrisa, not long after their first meeting. JT had been so annoyed with both their new profiler and their ME that he hadn't given much thought to it. He also realizes he hasn't really ever seen Malcolm eat anything but licorice, twizzlers and lollipops. Nothing particularly healthy. Giving the man a once-over, truly noting for the first time how small and skinny and fragile he is, and remembering how he could feel every ridge in his spine and ribcage when he wrapped his arms around the kid, JT finds himself equally determined to get some food in him. "Besides," he cuts in lightly when Malcolm opens his mouth slightly to continue objecting, "you wouldn't wanna hurt Tally's feelings by not eating her food, would you?"

Malcolm blinks, and snaps his mouth shut with a half-worried, half-guilty look. JT almost feels bad, and he probably would if he wasn't more worried about just getting Malcolm to eat something. He doesn't understand the whole food aversion thing, other than the fact that, as he'd said, most food makes him sick - but he's also aware that that could stem from the fact that he _doesn't_ eat well. But if he can choke down a pack of twizzlers in an hour, JT is certain he could withstand his wife's cooking. Tally is a goddess in the kitchen, and he's standing by that. Besides, even if there was a chance it would make him sick - he wouldn't know until he tried it.

"Of course not," Malcolm mumbles after a moment, smiling hesitantly.

"Wonderful!" Tally beams, clasping her hands together. "Make yourself comfortable, it'll be about twenty more minutes." She turns then, preparing to sweep herself away to the kitchen, but JT moves forward quickly to wrap his arms around her and pull her back just long enough to press a kiss to her lips. She wraps her arms around his neck in response, offering a light squeeze and pecking him back quickly before pulling back with a smile and disappearing into the kitchen.

Malcolm is grinning, all teeth and dimples when JT turns back to him, but there's nothing but affection in his gaze as he glances back up at JT before rooting his gaze back to Levi again.

JT only rolls his eyes, smiling amusedly at the man, and leads him to the living room.

"You want something to drink?" He asks after a few moments, watching Malcolm settle down on the couch with Levi cradled carefully in his arms. He's a little tense, but that's beyond understandable; JT can't say he's not a little cautious himself when he's holding his son, afraid that a wrong move or a shift in his grip would send the baby plummeting. Malcolm seems to relax a little more once he's sitting down, though, once he's content that they're safely secured and settled back into the couch, and JT watches as he grabs two of the little couch pillows beside him to stuff up under his arms and Levi for better support while he shakes his head.

"No, thank you."

"We got soda," JT hums, leaning back against the doorframe.

Malcolm purses his lips, considering it. A glance down at Levi reveals his concerns, and JT can't help but falter for a second. Not only does Malcolm not trust them, but he also doesn't consider himself trust _worthy_. JT almost wants to laugh, but it still hurts. He's only ever seen parents hold their own babies with so much care and caution. There's not a part of him that doubts Malcolm can be trusted with his kid for two seconds while JT goes to grab him a soda from the kitchen.

"Sit tight." He offers a reassuring, pointed look, and raises an eyebrow. "I'll be right back."

Malcolm hesitates, and lifts his chin in a half-nod, looking uncertain. It's not a relief to slip away, though he can't say he minds the chance to clear his head a little bit - and he certainly doesn't mind giving Malcolm the chance to, either. It is, however, a relief to step into the kitchen with Tally, briefly passing the fridge so that he can walk over and envelop her in a hug from behind as she cooks, pressing her face into the crook of her neck and taking a deep, slow breath. She responds by sinking back against him with a quiet hum, raising one hand to wrap her arm around the back of his neck as she leans her head back against his shoulder. She's silent for a moment, eyes on the food, before abruptly twisting her head around to look back up at him.

"Is he okay?" The words are quiet, hushed, nothing but concern and compassion flickering in her eyes. JT takes a moment to genuinely consider his answer, biting the inside of his cheek. Seven years they'd been married, and JT doesn't keep secrets. Not from her. Never from her.

"No," he admits carefully after a moment, keeping his voice low. Tally only blinks at him, eyebrows knitting together as he shifts on his feet and takes a breath. "Not right now, he's not."

Tally studies his face for a moment, brows furrowed, before relaxing again. She falls silent for a moment, head tilted toward the living room - JT can't help but smile at the hushed murmurs he can't quite make out coming from inside, knowing full well that Malcolm is sitting in there probably having a lengthy discussion with his baby - then turns the full force of her patented motherly look on JT, an expression she'd mastered perfectly about two months into her pregnancy alone. Despite himself, he eases out a chuckle and lets his shoulders fall free of the tension he hadn't been aware was there. "He's also not taking care of himself. Which I won't stand for," she warns him. "Either you bring him over for dinner every night or he's moving in."

"Noted," JT muses, pulling back after a moment and offering her an easy smile. "Though I'm not too opposed to the second option." It's the truth, though he only really realizes that after he'd spoken. Actually, considering the fact that he still doesn't like the idea of having to send or take Malcolm back to his apartment and leave him alone, he _really_ likes that second option a _lot_.

Tally squints at him, thoughtful. "I could… clear out my study. Set up the old guest room again."

"I'll have to talk to him," JT murmurs. "But I don't hate that idea at all."

He pulls back completely, but she surges up to offer him a kiss at the last second, and he dutifully obliges, only heading over to the fridge when she pulls away and turns back to the stove. The mumbling from the living room hasn't faltered - if anything, it had gotten a little louder, but not enough for JT to make out anything that's being said. Still, it brings a smile to his face as he grabs one of the sodas from the fridge and leaves the room again - and his smile only further widens when he enters the living room. Malcolm's hesitance seems to have completely vanished; his eyes are wide with wonder, excitement, holding Levi under his arms, up in front of him and facing him, with his hands circled around to support his neck, holding him close enough that the infant's hand can reach to curl around his nose, holding on tightly.

"Ohhh you're a strong little guy aren't'cha? Yes, you are," Malcolm's crooning, not quite having noticed him yet, and JT has to bite his lip to keep back a laugh. Baby talk. Malcolm's baby talking to his son. It's such a drastic shift that JT's almost uncertain this is the same guy. Levi, of course, loves it; with a smile, he moves his hand from Malcolm's nose to his cheek, bringing the other one up to pat the side of his face, and Malcolm _giggles_. "God, you are so _precious_."

"He knows it," JT cuts in, and Malcolm jumps a little, but relaxes again quickly, his smile unwavering. He looks up only briefly when JT walks over, setting the soda on the coffee table.

"I'll bet he does." Malcolm chuckles and eases Levi back into his arms again, cradling him much to the baby's dismay, but Malcolm's quick to offer him his index finger before he can start crying, and it's not long before Levi forgets about why he was upset in the first place and latches onto Malcolm's hand with both of his tiny ones with a curious coo. "My god, I don't wanna leave now."

JT doesn't think he's ever mentioned 'God' so much, and he can't help but laugh.

Then he considers Malcolm's words, perching on the arm of the couch, and hums quietly.

"Speaking of which," he starts after a moment, and Malcolm's attention immediately goes back to him, confusion replacing the excitement and adoration that had been etched across his face. JT only smiles, casting a quick glance down to his son before looking back up at Malcolm again. There's a bit of caution in his gaze, a bit of confusion. JT's definitely gonna have to address this carefully - although, to be fair, he already intended to. He'd wait for Tally, so they could have this conversation together, but JT also doesn't want Malcolm to feel like they're trying to trap him into something. "Tally and I are worried about you," he finally decides on for now, and Malcolm's eyebrows furrow faintly in response. "The skull fracture is _my_ biggest thing - and she's worried about your eating habits, and… well, I know you haven't been sleeping," he adds a little quieter, studying the dark circles under the other man's eyes, remembering the stakeout in which Malcolm had admitted he was an insomniac, thinking about all the candy and sugar he eats…

It was all so fucking obvious. He'd _admitted_ these things.

(" _Processed sugar creates a strong dopamine response in the brain, essential for both those in pursuit of deranged murderers, and insomniacs.")_

God, this had been staring him right in the face for _how_ long?

"I never sleep," Malcolm replies without hesitation, and while the smile on his face lacks any particular wariness, there's a hint of caution behind his gaze now that doesn't seem to have anything to do with distrust. "And I know where this is going and I promise you that I'm fine."

"That so?" JT counters, though not unkindly. "Because whenever you say you're fine…"

Malcolm deflates almost at once. "... right."

JT manages a dry smile in response, moving from the arm of the couch to settle down beside him, with a cushion of space still between them. "And," he starts, quieting a little just enough so that Malcolm can still hear him, "with everything going on, is you being alone the best option?" Malcolm doesn't reply immediately then, looking almost troubled now, and JT eases out a sigh through his teeth and sits back, falling silent for a moment. But he does watch him for a moment, studying the expression on his face, a mixture of longing, and fear, and confusion.

"I have night terrors," Malcolm says suddenly, and JT leans his head back, listening. "I have to sleep in restraints and with a mouth guard because I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, and I threw myself out of a window once because of a nightmare and I almost-" He stops suddenly, jaw working silently while his throat convulses, and JT is honestly still trying to wrap his mind around the window thing before he admits in a rush, "and I almost really hurt Eve because I was hallucinating, and I had a knife, and if she'd been any closer to me I would've-"

"Okay," JT eases in carefully, halting the hysterics before they can begin, and Malcolm deflates back into the couch again, looking back down at Levi. "First of all, I'd like to tell you that you wouldn't be the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night screaming." He spares a pointed look toward Levi, looking back in time to see Malcolm's mouth open, a clear protest written across his face. "Okay, not the same, I know, but the odds are he'll end up waking you up before your nightmares. Second, the fact that you threw yourself out a window only worries me more. Third…" He softens a little then, studying the other man's face. "I know how night terrors work, bro. And I'm sorry you gotta deal with that. But that still doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be alone right now."

Malcolm doesn't respond immediately. He takes a breath and lets it out through his teeth, rubbing his thumb absently across Levi's knuckles. By that point, the baby was slowly starting to fall asleep, content in the man's arms. "I don't know. I _know_ I shouldn't, but-" He cringes a little then, like he'd just made the biggest verbal error of the century, and worry and pain pinches and rolls through JT's stomach like thunder as he watches the man try to correct himself. "I mean… no. Not… not that I _shouldn't_ , that's not what- I'm _fine_ being alone, I just- I don't want to be a…"

"You wouldn't be," JT responds immediately, narrowing his eyes.

Malcolm doesn't look too certain, but his expression eases a little when he meets his gaze.

JT waits a moment, meeting his gaze evenly, before clearing his throat and going on. "We've got a guest room Tally's been using as an office. She hasn't been using it much since she found out she was pregnant, and she probably won't be for a while now. We can set that up for you."

"I'm not in trouble, JT," Malcolm mumbles, shifting slightly. He freezes a little when Levi stirs, looking down at the baby with an almost terrified look, but he's quick to relax when the infant simply relaxes and sinks back into his arms again with a soft, tired sigh. He waits a moment, watching carefully, then lifts his gaze back to JT and frowns. "It's not like I don't have a place to stay, or… it's not like that. I don't need to…"

"Not having a place to stay doesn't have to be the only reason for staying with a friend, Bright. I just don't see a reason for you to have to be alone with everything you're going through."

Malcolm frowns, biting his lip, and glances away. "And the night terrors?"

"We'll adjust," JT replies confidently, allowing a brief smile to flicker across his face this time, and leans back into the couch. "Like I said, I know how night terrors work. Give it a few nights."

"What about my bird?" Malcolm asks suddenly. "Sunshine…"

"Hey, birds are great. I love birds."

Malcolm blinks, looking back at him somewhat skeptically. "You do?"

"No," JT answers honestly, and shrugs. "Don't hate them either. Anyway, that's fine too." Malcolm raises his eyebrows and manages a faint but tired smile at that, but it withers away into uncertainty again rather quickly. He falls silent then, leaning his head back, and takes a slow breath that seems to catch itself in his lungs for a moment before he can force himself to exhale in a sharp but silent huff, squeezing his eyes shut. JT watches him, watches how he struggles to rationalize the conflict that must be raging in his mind, to piece his thoughts together completely.

He's not sure he can express the relief he feels when Malcolm whispers, "okay."


End file.
